Grease Monkey
by Random Guise
Summary: A soon-to-be pilot has an interesting talk with a mechanic who suggests that maybe a famous barnstormer didn't die in 1931 after all. A short one-shot sequel of sorts to the movie "The Great Waldo Pepper". I don't own the character of Waldo and I've never been in a cockpit.


**A/N: Takes place 24 years after the movie "The Great Waldo Pepper".**

* * *

Grease Monkey

"Hey Pops, let me buy you a drink; I'm celebrating." The young man sat beside the only other man in the bar and caught the bartender's attention with a wave. A quick glance showed that the older man was drinking some type of beer. From his dirty clothes and unkempt grayish-blond hair the man must have either come after work or been sitting there twenty years.

"Whatya havin'?" the barkeep asked as he polished a shot glass. Bartenders always polished something when they weren't busy; an idle body behind the bar didn't look good for business.

"Whatever he's drinking, and set him up with another. I'm going into the Air Force tomorrow." The bartender pulled two glasses of the house special from the tap and threw down a pair of coasters for the drinks. "Flyboy, eh?"

"Gonna be, I'll be in one of those F-86 Sabre jets soon. Whoosh!" he sounded as he swept his hand through the air. The older man started laughing. "You got somethin' against pilots Pop?"

"The name's Ezra Lake, and I got nothin' against pilots as long as they stay in the air. I do have a problem with them when they crash because they want to hot dog it instead doing the job. More in love with the idea of flying than paying attention to how to do it right."

"I've wanted to fly ever since I could walk. I've studied books on flying, I've built models, and I even rebuilt a Link Trainer I found at the dump. I know it's not the same as actually flying, but I'm as prepared as a man can be without leaving the ground. I've read everything I can about the history of flying."

"Well…maybe I might have been a bit hasty but that 'Whoosh' thing was something I'd expect from a kid. What's your name, cadet-to-be?"

"Samuel Allen Gottman. Call me Sam." He stuck out his hand and Ezra shook it. By this point the bartender had moved down to the other end and was chatting with some new customers. "Care to sit at a table?"

"More comfortable than a barstool I suppose" Ezra shrugged as he drained the last of his original beer and carefully moved the full one to a table in the corner, limping as he made his way across the bar. He sat down and visibly sank into the seat.

"Ever been up in a plane Ezra?" Sam asked as he sat with his beer as well.

"A long time ago, but mostly I've just been working on them to keep 'em running for others. Let's see, its 1955…last time was probably before you were born since I'm guessing you're twenty or so."

"Nineteen, but close enough. Were you a mechanic for the Wright Brothers?" Sam tried to keep a straight face after asking the question but failed and broke into a wide grin.

Ezra smiled and admitted " I never met the gentlemen. But I've known a few of the early greats. Like Lincoln Beachey."

"1887 to 1915."

"You know who he was?" Ezra asked with a hint of skepticism.

"Sure, I've got a book with pictures and biographies of all the great barnstormers and pioneers. Beachey, Doug Davis, Ormer Locklear, Earl Daugherty, Speed Holman, Waldo Pepper…"

"Waldo Pepper?"

"Yeah, Waldo Pepper. 1895-1931; instructor, barnstormer, and he died filming aerial stunts."

"Maybe Waldo Pepper died filming a stunt, and then again maybe he didn't."

"Sure he did, for Werfel's film. He damaged his plane during filming and crashed into a railroad trestle; they never did find him or his motor."

"Well son, let me tell you what might have happened; listen carefully." Ezra took a sip of beer and stared into it for a moment, almost so long that Sam figured he wasn't going to continue. But the scarred hands with the grease under the nails shifted and in a low voice he continued.

"Waldo should have died, I won't deny that. While filming he got into a real duel with Ernst Kessler, using their planes as the weapons. Stupid, foolhardy and proving nothing except he had an ego that barely fit into the cockpit. Both planes were badly damaged and went their separate ways. Kessler's plane broke apart before he could land, killing him over a farm. Waldo flew off, his landing gear nearly torn away and completely useless."

"That should have been it" he continued "except just before the fuel was out Waldo found a freight train running at speed along a track out in the middle of nowhere. Now Waldo couldn't slow down enough to match speed with the train, but as it was going down a straight section of track he managed to tie off his stick with his belt against part of the inner frame to hold it in place. Knowing he only had one chance he approached directly from behind and off to the right; the left side was blocked by a line of telegraph poles. As the plane descended he readied himself and when his lower left wing touched down he leaped from the plane onto the top of the train car."

Ezra went on. "Unfortunately, the plane continued to fall to the right and hooked the right wingtip on the ground, spinning the tail around and clipping him from behind just as the train started across a river trestle. Waldo was thrown off the train to the left side and hit his head and tangled his leg in the railroad ties before bouncing over and down into the river below. Meanwhile the plane disintegrated along the trestle and scattered all over the river. The heavy motor sank into the mud of the river bottom and was covered up pretty quick."

"Funny, I never saw anything like that in the papers. What became of Waldo?"

"Well let me tell you, although this is pure speculation on my part. All his friends were dead, he was already banned from flying for life, and he was probably responsible for Kessler's death. When someone found him floating in the river he quite possibly claimed to be a hobo riding on the train and jumped when he saw the plane coming in. After he spent some time in the hospital with a leg that was now permanently crooked, he took his skills as an airplane mechanic and found a way to make a living under a new name. I reckon that way he could still be around the airplanes that he loved, but at the same time no one would look twice at a grubby grease monkey." He finished and stared into his empty glass while the noise level in the bar continued to pick up as more customers arrived.

'Ezra' looked at Sam. "Just remember, if flying is everything to you then when you don't have it you've got nothing. I'm not saying don't fly, just treat it with respect and be sure to have a life outside the cockpit too. Even a mechanic can eventually find love" he said, playing with the ring on his finger. "I'm sure that's what Waldo would have said."

"Thanks…er…Ezra. For the record, I really do love to fly."

"I know the feeling, Sam. Remember, the blue part of the sky is up." They shook hands and Sam left in a thoughtful state leaving the old mechanic at the table.

The End

* * *

 **A/N: I had heard about the ending of the movie when it was released long ago. Now that I've seen the ending for myself, I felt like I didn't want him to die and had to 'rescue' him, even if it left him the worse for wear.**


End file.
